Uncertainty
by prepare4trouble
Summary: Wilson's been hiding something from House, but it's impossible to keep a secret forever


A/N Just to clarify on when this story is set, it takes place during the first few episodes of season four before House knows that Chase and Cameron are working at the hospital before Wilson knows either, for that matter. It was just convenient to place it there, it didn't seem to fit in with the episodes we're seeing at the moment.

* * *

Uncertainty

"Doctor Wilson!"

The young woman increased her pace to catch up to him as he turned the last corner before he reached work. She was pretty. Blonde, slim, and familiar somehow. He smiled, "Hello, how are you?"

Her face creased into a frown that she quickly smoothed away, "Great, actually," she told him.

Wilson nodded. Could she be a former patent? A current one? The mother of one? "Good," he said, "that's good. So..." he floundered. He was clearly supposed to know who she was, and until he worked it out, conversation was going to be tricky. Her proximity to the hospital suggested she knew him from work, that did make her being a patient or a patient's family likely, but it also meant she could work there. A doctor? One of the nursing staff? She was dressed professionally, no nurse's uniform, no white coat, but she was probably just arriving for her shift.

Her expression shifted to concern, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he nodded, "not had my coffee yet, that's all. I'll wake up in a few minutes." He paused as they entered the hospital through the front door. He would make his the last time he walked work, no matter how nice the weather looked. "Right, got to get that coffee," he told her, "Um, nice to see you again." With that he turned and sped towards the stairs, leaving the young woman watching him go with a bemused expression on her face.

***

There was a brief knock on his door before it opened and a head appeared through the crack, "Got a minute?" The man was blond, with an Australian accent, he could only be Chase. Wilson nodded, and he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"House didn't hire you back," it was a statement, not a question.

Chase shook his head, "Cuddy did, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell House for now."

Wilson shrugged, "Good idea, you don't want House to know you're here, so you show up in my office where he could turn up at any moment. What can I do for you, Chase,"

"It's Cameron, she won't shut up about you,"

Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"Not like that! This morning she said you practically blanked her. She's quite upset about it. Now, I don't care if you're going to side with House, it doesn't surprise me at all, but when Cameron's upset I end up spending all night listening to her whining when there are more fun things we could be doing. Just, in future could you at least be civil?"

He thought back through the morning, trying to make sense of what Chase was saying. "I didn't even realize she was working here, I never..." It hit him suddenly, the girl that had spoken to him this morning, could that have been... "Chase, has Cameron dyed her hair?"

"Yes, blonde," he looked at Wilson critically for a moment, "You didn't recognize her, did you."

Wilson sighed. "I was running late this morning, I didn't put my contact lenses in. Apologize to her for me."

Chase looked dubious, but nodded and left the room, leaving Wilson mentally kicking himself for his own stupidity.

Two patients later, the door opened without warning and House walked in. He sat himself down on the opposite side of Wilson's desk and stared at him. Wilson waited for him to say something, but after a few minuter had to ask, "What?"

"You don't wear contact lenses,"

Wilson's hands dropped from his keyboard and he raised his eyes to meet House's, "True," he said.

"There's an interesting rumor going around that you upset some nurse by not recognizing her without your lenses in. Just seemed a bit suspicious, that's all."

"Well, if some nurse said it, it must be true. Fine, commence with the interrogation." Wilson switched his monitor off as theatrically as he could and sat back.

House stretched out, putting his feet up on another chair and resting his cane against Wilson's desk. "You didn't drive to work this morning. Your gym bay is in the corner of the room. You left it half open and there's a shirt sticking out. Unless that's the new fashion on the gyms now – I wouldn't know – I have to assume you decided the smelly, sweat-stained look doesn't inspire confidence in your patients. Also, you always leave your keys on the desk next to your computer. Here's your door key, where's your car key?"

"It's at home. Well done, House. You managed to deduce that I walked to work. I have things to be doing, you know."

"I'm not finished yet." He picked up Wilson's coffee cup and took a swig, winced and spat half of the liquid back into the cup, "That's gone cold," he informed him. "Now, why would you be walking to work when you've got a perfectly good car?"

"Maybe my car broke down. Maybe it's being repaired. Or maybe I just thought that since it was such a nice day I'd walk in." Wilson got to his feet and fastened the zipper on his gym bag before kicking it further behind his desk.

"Not if you're in such a hurry you don't have time to put your non-existent contact lenses in before you leave. How long have you been having visual problems?"

Wilson forced the irritation down and shook his head, "I'm not."

House shook his head. "It fits. It explains why you're not driving, why you're not recognizing people and why you've got a handy little lie already worked out to explain it. How long?"

"My eyes are fine, House. I've driven in every day this week, I just felt like walking. The 'some nurse' incident was a misunderstanding, and the lie was to avoid hurting her feelings. You'll notice that when you walked in unannounced and started this ridiculous conversation, I was busy working, and having no difficulty at all seeing what I was doing."

House's brow crinkled in thought, "It could be intermittent. That suggests something neurological. It could even be that you haven't noticed the effects consciously yet. I'll schedule an MRI..."

"House!" House stopped taking as Wilson looked him unflinchingly in the eye. "I'm fine, House, my eyes are fine."

House nodded, lifted his leg from the chair where it was resting and got to his feet, "Your tone suggests you know that. Which suggests you've already considered and dismissed it. Which suggests you know something else is wrong. You might as well tell me, I'm going to figure it out eventually anyway."

"There's nothing to tell," Wilson switched his computer's monitor on once again and moved his attention back to his work, "Can I get on with what I'm doing now, or is there anything else?"

"There's plenty more," House told him, "I'll be back later," and with that he left, leaving Wilson staring after him with a mixture of dread and irritation.

***

"What causes intermittent visual problems?" House wrote 'Vision' in the center of the whiteboard and drew a ring around it.

The gathered candidates sat in silence, waiting.

"Come on, that wasn't a rhetorical question, I'm looking for suggestions."

"Do we have a patient?" asked someone on the back row, "When did this happen?"

House shook his head, "No, no patient, I'm just asking for the hell of it. Nothing better to do, I thought I'd just make up a symptom," His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"MS?" Suggested Kutner. "Who is it?"

"No other symptoms to suggest MS," House replied.

"That could be the first symptom. Who's the patient?"

The eager note in his voice for some reason annoyed House more than normal, "I told you, no patient. What else?" He jotted MS down at the side of the board and looked around expectantly.

"Brain tumor?"

"Head trauma?"

Thirteen tucked her hair behind her left ear and looked at the board, "What kind of visual problems?" she asked.

House shook his head. "The patient is an idiot, he refuses to admit to any problem, so we can't gage the severity. It's bad enough that he wouldn't recognize someone he knows when she's standing in front of him."

"I thought there wasn't a patient," Kutner called out.

House sighed, "The metaphorical patient is also refusing any tests, claiming he is fine. Any more ideas?"

"Maybe he's right. Is there any more proof it's his vision? Maybe it's just his ability to recognize people that's been impaired."

House opened his mouth to reply, then didn't. Wilson was adamant his eyes were fine. Maybe the car had been a coincidence, which changed the symptom. "You're dismissed," he told the group, "come back tomorrow," he left the lecture theater as quickly as he could.

***

He found Wilson in the cafeteria and slid into the chair opposite him, "Your eyes are fine," he said.

"I know. That's what I told you," Wilson agreed through a mouthful of fries.

"You have prosopagnosia,"

"House..."

House help up a hand in front of his face and continued, "When did it start? What was it, some kind of head injury?"

"No,"

House bit his bottom lip and helped himself to a handful of fries, "A tumor?" he asked quietly, lowering his eyes as well as his voice.

"No. House, I'm fine. Just leave it alone."

House shook his head. "We're talking about an impairment of the ability to recognize faces. It's caused by damage to the brain. I can't help notice that you're not denying this like my last theory, so what caused it?"

Wilson pushed away his plate and House pulled it towards himself. "Nothing caused it."

"Developmental prosopagnosia?" House thought about that, "Pretty rare, and how would you have gotten away with out me noticing all these years?"

"Maybe you're not as observant as you think. Or maybe I'm just good at covering," Wilson said as he got to his feet and started to walk away.

House followed, "Why did you never said anything?" he asked. In response, Wilson just rolled his eyes and House smiled, "Yeah, good point."

They reached Wilson's office and House followed him inside. "You're not going to let this rest, are you?" Wilson asked.

House shook his head.

"Fine. Yes, I have trouble recognizing faces. Yes, it's probably prosopagnosia. I first realized I had trouble when I was about ten, but as far as I know, I've always been this way."

"Hmm," House eyed him slowly up and down, "so you've been hiding this from me out entire friendship. That's impressive, Wilson. I mean I knew you were a devious bastard, but that's really something."

Wilson sat down behind his desk and slouched forward,resting his chin on the palm of his hand, "It's not a big deal," he said, "it's not even that bad, I've met lots of people online who have it much worse than me."

"This explains so much," House said as he eased himself into a chair, "The other day when we had dinner at that restaurant your second wife was there. She walked past the table, you looked right at her and never even blinked. I thought you were deliberately ignoring her. Maybe not..."

Wilson stared at him, "She did?"

"Nope," House got back to his feet, "but the fact that you believed she might have, tells me the problem's worse than you're letting on."

"No it doesn't!"

House ignored him as he opened the door and left.

"House!" Wilson leaped up in pursuit and followed him next door to his own office.

He closed the door behind him and glared, "No it doesn't. All it proves it that after all these years I'm still naïve enough to believe you when you say the most ridiculous things."

House sat down behind his desk, picked up a pen and began twirling it between his fingers, "How bad is it?" he asked eventually.

"In comparison to what?"

"The scenario I just described," House said, "on a scale of one to five, five being the highest, how likely was that?"

Wilson fought down the urge to lie and replied, "Four," he looked away, "point five."

"That's ridiculous. Wilson, you should tell people about this. Would you rather have people think you're an ignorant bastard than that you have a disability? Accommodations can be made. We could all wear name badges," House smiled.

"And swap them around?"

House shrugged, "You've got to admit, it'd be more entertaining than sawing through my cane."

"I did try telling people once," Wilson sat himself down and looked around the office, eyes focusing on everything but the man he was talking to. "They didn't believe me, everyone thinks that they're special. They're the one that no one could possibly forget. No one likes to think that they fade into the crowd."

Curiosity crept into House's expression, "And no one gets that impression either. How is that? I never thought you might not recognize me, even when we first met."

Wilson shrugged, "I've been doing this a long time," he said, "I've gotten good at covering, making generic conversation until I work out who I'm talking to, listening to their voice, noticing what they're wearing. Shoes, mostly. People change their clothes, but they often wear the same shoes. Plus, it's easier in context. Here in the hospital, for example, there are people I expect to see, so I know who to look out for. And as for you... Some people do stand out from the crowd."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," House told him, "but I suppose when I got this, I became even more unmistakable," he tapped his cane on the ground.

"It would've helped, if I hadn't already known you," Wilson admitted, "but you've always been pretty hard to miss."

"Well, Wilson," House got to his feet, "I know why you didn't tell me about this, but I'm glad I found out. I'm going to have a lot of fun with it."

With that he walked out of the door, leaving Wilson staring after him. "I'm sure you will," he muttered to himself, as he got up and went back to his own office.


End file.
